


Blackbird

by MooseFeels



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drugs, Fallen Castiel, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-12
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-05 01:59:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/717556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MooseFeels/pseuds/MooseFeels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel hurts sometimes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blackbird

            It was as if he had more nerves, ones that webbed out from over his chest and along his back to that coiled and strange place where he had once had wings. Normally, they meant he was more sensitive, just a little more aware of his shirts and coats and place in space.

             Sometimes, though, sometimes the nerves burned tense and hard and tight and hot. Sometimes, it felt like his torso was encased in a cage of fire.

            On mornings like that, Castiel burrowed down deeper and deeper into the blankets and whimpered away from light and touch.

             It felt like they had tried everything. They'd tried every pharmaceutical short of morphine (which Dean fought against virulently) and homeopathy and acupuncture and heating pads and hot baths and cold baths. The only thing that seemed to work was the pot, and even then, the pain flared back. It was a last resort more than anything- something Dean urged into his burning lungs when the pain lasted for days and days and he couldn't sleep. Castiel didn't like the way it made him feel- didn't like the way it made him feel disconnected and floating and distant and strange.

            Dean didn't like it for reasons he never quite wanted to explain.

            It had started on a Sunday this time. He'd been shocked out of sleep by the grasp of it, and he'd tried to be still and quiet to grant Dean the last good, hard sleep Castiel knew he would be getting until the attack faded out days later. It wasn't until the twitching started that Dean woke up yawning, and it was about two or three minutes before he realized that Castiel was not all there.

             The pain dragged him, kicking and screaming through sleeplessness for three days. He gasped through every breath and twisted against every touch. Dean had stayed in the room, helping him limp uneasily to the bathroom and sliding water and broth past his lips and helping him through the capricious demands of his body.

             On Wednesday, he came in with a heavy expression and the joint.

             "I know you hate this," he murmured, absently. "But you've got to get some sleep. Even if it's just for a little while."

             And Castiel hated it but he knew he was right.

             "Not a lot," he specified, as he pulled a lighter from his breast pocket.  "Can you sit up, Cas?"

            Dean helped him ease slowly upward and lit the joint, sliding it between Castiel's lips.  He lit it gingerly.

            "Inhale," he gently whispered, his warm palm sliding onto Castiel's back. "Long and slow baby, come on."

            Castiel held the breath as long as he could and when Dean slowly whispered, "Exhale," he let the breath free.

             They did not burn through the whole joint, even with Dean taking command of the joint a couple of times. It was when Castiel's pain eased out entirely and he began to feel like he had been yanked out of body that the joint was snuffed and placed on the bedside table.

            Dean eased in front of him so that Castiel could lean forward and rest his forehead against Dean's. It was intensely comforting to have him so solid.

             It was Dean's hands that helped him back into the bed when he fell asleep, and when the pain flared back up all too soon it was Dean's hands that helped him back into sleep.


End file.
